


Somewhere In Between

by boxparade



Series: White Blank Page [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxparade/pseuds/boxparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He seems…determined.”</p><p>Dean levels a look at Cas that says 'no shit' and Cas sighs, kisses Dean’s temple, and retreats to safer grounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere In Between

**Author's Note:**

> This is set a really long time after the last one. I'm writing everything in this series in whatever order I feel like, so sue me. Eventually it'll make sense.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my fancy-ass [beta](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xsista/pseuds/angelofwinchesters).
> 
> Disclaimer: The opinions of the characters do not reflect the opinions of the author.

It takes five minutes of knocking without letting up until Ben even bothers to turn up the music.

“He seems…determined.”

Dean levels a look at Cas that says _no shit_ and Cas sighs, kisses Dean’s temple, and retreats to safer grounds. As much as Cas is in almost every way a parent to Ben, things like this…. Well, they both agree to leave them to Dean, is all. Dean’s starting to think they may need to reconsider.

He parks his ass outside Ben’s door with a groan. Christ, he’s too old for this. Curse this kid for inheriting his stubbornness. How they ever meet eye to eye around here is beyond him.

Ben finally opens the door to peek out just as Dean’s leg is starting to cramp. Dean seizes the moment, shoving his arm through the door and powering into Ben’s room. Ben is pissed, not surprisingly, but he doesn’t tell Dean to leave, just falls onto his bed and starts texted so he doesn’t have to look Dean in the eye. Dean pulls out Ben’s desk chair and flips it, sitting with his arms over the back, waiting for Ben to acknowledge him. When he realizes he’d be a skeleton before that happens, he tries for neutral ground. “Who’re you texting?”

Judging by the glare Ben shoots him, it’s not as neutral a ground as he thought. He goes back to his phone, but seems to finish and shoves the thing into his pocket. He looks up at Dean contemptuously and says “Elijah.”

Dean lets his shoulders slump. Of course it’s Elijah. “Look—” he tries, but apparently nothing is sacred anymore, because he is a parent and Ben is a teenager and they are destined to fight about everything from curfew to the existence of dust.

“I don’t care what you think,” Ben spits out, crossing his arms and continuing that thousand-yard glare.

“You get that glare from your mother, you know,” he says, offhand. It has the desired effect—Ben seems to soften around the edges out of shock, and even when he catches himself and tries to correct, Dean’s already reminded him of all the reason’s they’ve got to work this out.

Ben tries a different tack. “It’s none of your business who I—”

“I’m your father,” Dean cuts over him, “everything is my business until you turn 18.” Ben opens his mouth, probably to make some snappy comment about two more years before he can do what he wants, but Dean doesn’t give him the chance. “And by then you’ll be broke and calling me for money and food and you won’t even remember the meaning of the word ‘no’.” Ben seems to realize the wisdom in this statement, and doesn’t try to contradict it.

He does, however, knock the breath out of Dean’s lungs with a few choice words. “I love him.” Really, Dean should’ve expected this. It’s in every damn family drama ever put on TV. Those weird vampire movies make it seem like it’s completely normal to declare your undying love for someone when you’re still in high school and live sparkly ever-after. Christ.

“You’re sixteen,” Dean counters.

“So?” Ben juts out his chin and recrosses his arms.

“So you’re _sixteen._ ” He hopes like hell that’s enough to get through to Ben, but he doubts it. “Come on, Ben, you know crap like this rarely works out.” Dean’s trying to appeal to Ben’s intelligence, here. He is a smart kid, after all, just maybe not on this subject.

“Elijah’s different.”

Great. This is going so freaking well. Puppies and rainbows. Lord help him. “I’m sure it seems like that now—”

“He _is_ different, Dad.” Dean will forever be amazed at the kid’s ability to make ‘dad’ sound like a curse. He thinks it might be something programmed into teenager code. “Besides, you just don’t like him because he’s a boy.”

That is—well, it’s beside the point, but it’s got some truth. Dean’s not going to flat-out lie. That never worked with Lisa and it sure as hell isn’t going to work with Ben, not after all the influence Cas has probably had on him. “You’re right—”

“Ha!” Ben shouts, and then shuts up, looking vilified.

“I don’t like him because he’s a boy. He’s _just_ a boy, and you’re my son, and you’re _sixteen_.” He’s honestly having trouble understanding how it is Ben seems to miss the point completely about the ‘sixteen’ thing. It seems pretty damn clear to him.

Something sparks in Ben’s eyes, and suddenly there’s a sharpness to him that Dean hasn’t seen before, and oh fuck, this is not going to go well. “Would you care if I were a girl?”

“God damn it, Ben!” He huffs out a breath and scrubs a hand roughly up and down his face. This isn’t about that. For all Ben seems to love using it against him, it’s _never_ been about that, and he damn well knows it. When he looks back at Ben, the kid at least looks a little less headstrong, a little more willing to listen. Maybe Dean’s getting through to him. Doubtful.

“You—” There he goes again, and Dean cuts him off before he’s even got the chance to start because there’s a small window of opportunity for him to have any sort of advantage in this argument and he’s taking it.

“Just listen for a sec, kid, okay?” His voice is loud enough that Ben snaps his mouth shut and settles back further into the pillows, curling in on himself in a defensive way that Dean’s all too familiar with. But he’s quiet, and he’s listening. “This isn’t about boys or girls or whatever the hell else in this–” he waves a hand around vaguely to refer to everything trans* or LGBT or gender or society in general, maybe the whole damn universe, it doesn’t matter. “This is about you being my kid, and this other kid who _I don’t know_ having who knows what kind of influence on you.”

Ben surges forward, probably about to defend Elijah to the ends of the earth, but Dean stares Ben back into silence. Ben slumps back against his pillows again, put-out. Dean takes a couple of breaths and tries to start working toward some sort of middle ground, before Ben labels him the enemy again and refuses to listen to a word he has to say.

“I’m trying to be careful, Ben,” his voice softens on the name, and he’s struck with a fleeting longing for the name ‘Brandy’, even though that hasn’t been Ben’s name for years. “You just finished healing from surgery,” Ben gets a look of distaste at the fact that Dean is even bringing it up, “and no matter how old and independent and bulletproof you are, you’re still my kid. I don’t want you to get hurt. This boy—”

“Elijah,” Ben mumbles.

“Elijah,” he says slowly, trying not to inflect any of his own opinions into the tone. “Have you told him–”

“He knows.” Ben rushes to get the words out, a strange look of hope crossing his face. He looks too hopeful for Dean’s liking, but at this point, there’s only so much he can do. Dean nods, though, because that was still important. As much as he wishes Ben could go through life never having to think about any of this, that’s not the way their world works, and Ben can’t assume everyone’s going to take it in stride. Hell, the only reason Dean can deal with this so smoothly by now is because he’s been doing it for damn near a decade.

“I want to meet him.” Ben’s eyes go wide at that, like he’s getting off easy. “Cas, too.”

Ben’s face falls. “But Dad,” he whines. Dean raises his eyebrows and rests his chin on top of his hands on the back of the chair, waiting. Ben curls in on himself a little, and speaks in a quieter voice. “Cas is scary.”

Dean snorts. “Why do you think I want them to meet?”

Ben doesn’t seem too happy about this, but he huffs out a breath and nods anyway. “Fine.”

“If we say okay,” Ben gets this look of fierce, happy determination on his face, and Dean is screwed. He knows it already. “You can go out with him. Dates or,” he flaps a hand around helplessly. “Whatever.”

Ben smiles. Dean hums disapprovingly. He still doesn’t like this Elijah kid. The thought of Ben putting that kind of trust in a teenager makes his skin crawl, but he seems really confident, so Dean’s gotta give him a chance. He could just stonewall everything, but then he’d be a shitty parent and Ben would never forgive him. And god forbid when his _daughter_ is old enough to think she can start dating. That’s a whole other clusterfuck that he’s glad is at least a year or two off.

Ben fidgets nervously. Dean pins him with a look.

“So it’s not because of….” He trails off.

“Because of what?” Dean asks.

Ben looks up, worry line forming between his eyebrows. “‘Cause of the gay thing?”

Dean blinks. “What gay thing?” he asks slowly. Christ, if there’s something else about this whole mess he’s got yet to hear about, he might just lock Ben up in a bubble for the next five years until Dean can rid the Earth of everyone who might ever want to hurt him.

Ben grinds his teeth in annoyance and says pointedly “Me, Elijah.”

Oh, that gay thing. The thing where his son is dating another boy. And he’s obviously supposed to take issue with this because—okay, no, what the hell kind of a question is that? Has his kid been living under a rock, or something?

“You do realize that Cas and I are a thing, right?” he asks humorously. “He’s not just some dude I keep around the house to do the cleaning and pay in blow jobs.”

“Ew, dad, what the hell!” Ben makes a gagging sound.

Dean smirks, triumphant.

Ben shakes his head in shame, and then sobers a little. “No, I know you guys are cool, I just meant… because I’m…”

Oh. Dean shrugs. “After Brandy left, I didn’t think—” he stops; redirects himself. “But I spent eight years worrying my ass off that some boy was gonna come take you away from me before that, so by this point I’m pretty damn sure everyone—boys, girls, sexless pod people—” he gets a giggle out of that. “—is unworthy of dating my children. You’re shit out of luck, kiddo.”

Ben grins, humoring him, and then says, quiet, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, brat,” he says, standing and putting the chair back where it was. “Bring Elijah by for dinner. I’ll make Cas cook.” Ben’s eyes go wide in panic. “Or I’ll cook,” he adds hurriedly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Cas isn’t anywhere in earshot. The coast is clear. He and Ben nod at each other in relief and he backs into the doorway.

Ben pulls out his phone again and starts texting happily. Probably Elijah. He seems to notice Dean hovering in the doorway and looks up quickly, saying “You’re the best.”

“Can I get that in writing the next time you’re convinced I’m ruining your life?”

Ben huffs and rolls his eyes sarcastically, concentrating on his phone again. Like it’s not the truth. Dean shakes his head and backs out the doorway, mumbling “Punk,” but counting this one as a win.

Well, he’ll count it as a win if he manages to convince Cas it’s absolutely necessary for him to be polishing his foreign blade collection on the porch when Elijah gets here. It’s not a shotgun but it’ll do.


End file.
